Blood Bound: A Vampire Tale
Disclaimer: Everything concerning Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling. I own nothing, nor is this done for any purpose except my own enjoyment and the enjoyment of anyone reading this. There is no attempt to make any profit.
I wish to extend a grateful thank you to my beta readers, Amanda and Prof Roz. Any mistakes left in this story are due to my last minute revisions.
A/N Conversations in italic print are telepathic in nature.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Harry sat brooding as he waited for Hermione to return. McGonagall refused, with Hermione's approval, to let him hunt until his arm was better. They were probably right. He remembered Hermione's attack on Alecto, he had had to stop Hermione or she would have drained the Death Eater dry. Still, it chafed to sit here reading while everyone was doing something else.
He cast the book aside and stretched out with his vampire senses. Many of the student's thoughts were open to him. With effort and concentration he was able to pick out individual thoughts from the background of noise. The Slytherins were all nervous; it was apparent that there was something going on. The students knew no details, it was just that their parents were on edge and they had picked up on it. Many of the Ravenclaws were preparing for the end of year tests. The hubbub of review questions, the recitation of potion ingredients, and the cross-referencing of dates reminded him of studying with Hermione; all except for one, and she was dreaming of her red-haired king. The thoughts emanating from Hufflepuff were varied as the textures of the earth itself; warm, comforting, and rich. Harry withdrew his thoughts from there, for they reminded him of what it felt like to really be human. The Gryffindors were being themselves; boisterous and free. Yet, underneath the camaraderie there was a deadly purpose to their studies, they applied their knowledge to teaching the others how to defend themselves against the dark powers that gathered at the edges of their world. All of them were remembering one shining ideal - Harry Potter. Harry withdrew his power in embarrassment, but he wondered if other vampires did this? Did they move into an area and live in the lives of the mortals nearby?
Hermione entered the hut; she and Hagrid had gone to Hogsmeade. He could tell that she had fed from the faint flush of her cheeks. She drew close and Harry hugged her. He gently brushed his lips along the line of her jaw and bent down to throat. He gave her the memories of a warm, summer day down by the lake so that she would not feel the sting of his fangs. He tried to be conscious of the amount of blood he was taking, sure that the vampire within would take all it could to heal his damaged body.
A sudden knock on the door, forced him to draw back. He glanced at the dreamy expression on Hermione's face before he used his vampire senses to see who was on the other side of the door. It was McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey. He swiftly closed the punctures he had made on Hermione's neck and with a flick of his wand he unlocked the door. McGonagall looked suspiciously at Harry, he was wiping his mouth; and taking note of the way Hermione appeared to be waking from sleep. She frowned her disapproval; she obviously felt that there was something suspicious going on.
The two witches immediately set to work. Madam Pomfrey examined his wounds and McGonagall announced that she had a couple of spells she hoped would help Harry. The nurse said she could see noticeable improvement, but the progress was going slowly.
After Pomfrey finished, Mcgonagall tried the spells she hoped would help heal Harry's wounds. She tried the spells, and several variations, to no effect. McGonagall was not used to failure and did not conceal her disappointment well. The nurse began splinting Harry's wrist once again.
Harry offered what encouragement he could, but he did not have long to try. Hermione gave an excited exclamation and pointed at something silvery outside the window. McGonagall opened the door and admitted a patronus in the shape of a silver wolf.
The patronus entered the room and stood still. A voice spoke from the silvery form and it faded away when the voice was finished. Harry recognized Tonk's voice saying, "Lupin is on his way. He has urgent news for the Order."
Within fifteen minutes Lupin arrived with Hagrid in tow. He stopped short when he saw the two vampires sitting at Hagrid's table with McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey. Relief flooded his face, "I'm glad you survived, Arthur is worried sick that one of you was destroyed in the attack at the factory."
"Harry has been badly injured," McGonagall said. "He can't use his right hand and we can't heal him." Seeing how crowded it had become in Hagrid's hut she ordered, "Follow me to my office. We'll use my private entrance."
They made a strange group crossing the lawns to the castle. Four humans followed by a wolf with Hagrid carrying a second wolf. With a wave of her wand she opened a concealed door in the castle wall and a rotating spiral staircase lifted them to her office.
After arranging her guests she called the meeting to order. "You have news, Remus?"
"Yes, I'm afraid that Voldemort maybe moving against the Ministry. He's summoned the leaders of the werewolf clans to a meeting. The Death Eaters have been apparating with some of them. With the full moon coming up, I'd bet he intends to move against the Ministry next Friday. Something has happened to force his hand."
Harry spoke up, "I think I can tell you what happened." Harry told Lupin the story of the Horcruxes, he also added the information about what had happened in Albania. He told everyone that Fenrir had attacked them, and how Peter Pettigrew died. He finished with an apology about his behavior and his belief that Nagini was a Basilisk. Lupin was as stunned as the rest of them had been. The portrait of Dumbledore nodded and smiled at Harry.
"So what are we going to do?" asked Madam Pomfrey. Harry had never seen her at any of the meetings of the Order, but since McGonagall had included her at this strategy session he could only suppose that she was a member.
"Dumbledore told me that you were our best hope against Voldemort, Harry. We need to find a way to heal you as our first order of business," said McGonagall.
A small voice spoke from a corner of the room, "Headmistress, Dobby will help Harry Potter." The little elf would not raise his eyes and was obviously very nervous. He was wringing his hands together, and Harry half expected to have him start punishing himself for daring to speak to the Order.
All of them looked at the house-elf in surprise. "How did you know-,"
"House-elves knows things, Headmistress; we goes all over to clean and care for the students. We hears things and sees things, and hears things from outside. We know that the noble Harry Potter is still fighting He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, mistress. Harry Potter is injured. Dobby can help. It is important to save us all."
"When can you do this and what do you need for us to do?" McGonagall asked in surprise.
"Dobby can help right now, mistress. You must hold him, the monster in Harry Potter will not understand, the monster will try to fight."
"Will you consent to this, Harry?" asked McGonagall. Harry nodded nervously. Hermione took his hand in a gesture of reassurance. The Headmistress gestured with her wand producing a floating stretcher and a raised platform for the little elf to stand on.
Harry's gaze was locked on Hermione's face as he lay down on the stretcher, she could read the anxious look in his eyes. Lupin conjured ropes to bind Harry's waist and legs to the stretcher. Madam Pomfrey cast a silencing charm on the door. Hermione held Harry's hand, while Hagrid positioned himself at the head of the stretcher.
Dobby was trembling as he approached the platform; he kept his eyes downcast and stumbled once before he reached the steps. The sound of chanting suddenly filled the air. The voices were high-pitched and somewhat squeaky, but the effect was soothing rather than unpleasant. The vampire's eyes glowed red as the music continued; briefly Hermione covered her ears, and then she ran to the window. McGonagall followed, looking down she saw that the house-elves had gathered on the lawn and were singing. Slowly, the red light died in her eyes and she returned to the stretcher. The light was gone from Harry's eyes as well.
Slowly, Dobby reached out his trembling, long-fingered hands and wrapped them around Harry's injured wrist. McGonagall marked his expression as one of extreme disgust; it was as though he was dealing with filth unnamable. Hermione took his good arm, while Hagrid placed one hand above Dobby's and his other huge hand on Harry's chest. The elf's face hardened as he began to concentrate.
Harry's body went rigid and he screamed in agony. He extended his talons and tried to strike Dobby. Grimly, the determined house-elf held on. It was all Hermione could do to hold his other arm and even Hagrid was hard pressed to hold Harry down. He twisted and tried to bite those holding him, but all he succeeded in doing was to cut his own lips with his fangs. His scream stopped when he ran out of air, but he continued to twist and buck against the restraining hands of his friends. His champing teeth created a bloody froth around his mouth.
It seemed to take forever, but at last Dobby released his wrist. Harry sank back nearly unconscious; he twitched and shuddered, and to everyone's delight the fingers of his right hand twitched as well. Madam Pomfrey examined his wrist in amazement. There was no sign of the terrible wound, either in his wrist or on his chest.
The house-elf sank to his knees for long moments. Then turning his back on Harry, he stumbled toward the entrance to the Headmistress' office, and as he did so the chanting stopped. McGonagall left Lupin, Hagrid, and Hermione to tend Harry; she and Pomfrey followed Dobby.
"That was amazing, Dobby. How did you heal him?" asked McGonagall.
The elf looked at her with his enormous green eyes. "Your magic is young, mistress. When you have grown up we will teach you to give where there is not, so that you too can make what is not into what it should be." The witches were mystified by his statement, his most un-Dobbyish smile, and the wisdom in his eyes. The moment passed; and it was as though a curtain was closed between them; and he was a simple house-elf once more.
"What was the chanting for, Dobby?" asked Madam Pomfrey.
"It was to bind the monster's mind powers, mistress. If we had not, the monsters would have destroyed us all. May Dobby go, mistress? He is very tired."
"Of course, Dobby, and thank you very much for your help."
"To help Harry Potter fight He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is honor enough, mistress." With that the house-elf walked wearily down the staircase, and into the waiting arms of several house-elves that met him at the bottom.
They returned to find Hermione kissing Harry on the lips; her excuse was that she was closing the cuts on Harry's lips. Lupin released the ropes and Hermione helped him to his feet. Harry was still rather groggy, so the vampires went to sit on the steps to the Astronomy platform that formed a part of the Headmistress' office.
As the Order debated it was obvious that there was no time for involved plans. Voldemort's minions had slipped up; none of them connected Lupin with Hogwarts, or knew of his membership in the Order of the Phoenix. The best that the Order could do was strike quickly, thus preempting Voldemort's attack on the Ministry.
With all the death and destruction the war in the wizarding world brought on by the complex plans of its participants, it seemed ironic that all the scheming on both sides would come down to one simple fact. The Order knew where Voldemort was going to be at a certain time, and they could strike to take him out. It was now early Tuesday morning. They had two days to gather what forces they could; the attack would begin at sundown on Thursday.
McGonagall looked at the two vampires whispering together on the stairs. It appeared that Harry was recovering quickly, and neither was suffering any ill effects of the house-elves magic. She also noticed that Lupin was spending a lot of time observing them.
"Why don't you two go back to Hagrid's," she suggested. "We need to make lists of the people we can gather in two days, and figure out whom we can trust in the Ministry. We can plan further tomorrow night."
The vampires left. Turning to Lupin, McGonagall asked, "Is there a problem with them?"
"No," he replied sadly. "It's just that they have changed since the last time I saw them. Haven't you noticed? They're breathing, but they don't need to. They talk to one another instead of using their telepathy." He paused looking at the faces around the table. "Don't you understand? They're trying to be human."
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As they walked back to Hagrid's, Hermione had her arm wrapped around Harry's waist as she supported him. "It looked horrible, Harry. What did it feel like?"
Harry was silent as he tried to collect his thoughts. "I couldn't tell if it burned like fire, or froze like ice. It just seemed to combine the pain of both. Part of my brain told me I was being shocked by electricity; the pain just seemed to flow along my nerves. The oddest thing, though, was that the power was alive, it seemed to feel sad, as though its heart was breaking. I wonder why."
He drew Hermione to his side and they walked on to the hut.
There was not much that they could do, so Harry decided to return to his coffin early. His thoughts were coming into focus and he was coming to a realization. The Order was talking about forcing a confrontation with Tom in two days time. In two days, possibly three, Hermione would be gone forever. Memories of his conversation with the dementor came again into his awareness, their separation would not be forever, but would last as long as he walked the night.
He wondered if she really loved him. He had told her that he loved her, but she had never responded in words. He thought about all of their nights together, how she had followed him, done his bidding without argument. It was like their school years, when she was always looking out for his best interests.
She had always been so patient with him, but never gave ground if she felt the situation was dangerous. He remembered their fight back in their fifth year; he was so desperate to walk into Tom's trap. They had made a compromise and gone on together, and she had almost died.
Her kindness came to him too. She never stinted in spending all the time necessary to help him with his magic and to understand the world around him. Of course, she was like that with everyone; helping Neville to find Trevor and giving him advice in potions class. She aided Ron with his homework too. He remembered how she had explained what was in Cho Chang's mind.
Thinking of Cho, he wondered if Hermione had been jealous; if so he had never recognized that about her. She might have felt jealous back in fifth year. He based that on her comment back in their lair the night she almost left him. But when he needed her, he never saw it; she was there for him. It was only after she had fallen under the influence of the Cloak-Horcrux that he had ever seen her act out her jealousy, and even that had been relatively short lived.
As he thought on, he realized that she had never bragged or belittled anyone because she was his friend. How many would have used a relationship with him for their gain? Slughorn had tried and Romalda Vain had wanted to. Parvati might have gained something, but he was not really close to her, so he didn't know.
Hermione had never been demanding, she had just always been there for him. He had never consciously provoked her; indeed he had lied to her to keep her from being disappointed in his behavior. All the sparks had been between her and Ron, so he knew how she behaved when she was angry. Nothing he did really made her angry; well, that was not quite true. When he had cheated last year, she had been pretty upset about it. Yet, she had never turned her back on him, and had always tried to point him in the right direction. He wondered what would have happened if he had admitted the truth to old Slughorn. Hermione always seemed to appreciate truthfulness.
For all these months she had borne the curse of vampirism for him, hoping and longing for the time when he would keep his promise and free her from her blood thirst. He had hoped she would come to want to be with him, but comments she had made along the way made him realize that she had never changed her mind. In Bulgaria, she had refused to answer Krum's question. Her comment about not needing her hand after Tom was dead came back to haunt him. She had never ceased hoping for the peace of true death.
He realized that he could never doubt that she loved him; she had loved him for as far back as he could remember. It showed in every action, every time she had helped and he had never said "thank you". Her love positively glowed in her admiration of his achievements and her hopes for his future, even when he became a vampire. Hadn't she tried so hard to help him become an animagus?
Harry was dimly aware of the blood leaking from his eyes. Hermione loved him, even if she never said so. He could almost curse his blindness. She had been right in front of him all the time and he had been too stupid to notice.
His path had never been plainer. He said that he loved her; he was going to have to prove it by keeping his promise. He would lay her to rest beside her parents; his sacrifice of his desires to her needs would be the highest expression of his love for her. Hadn't he told her that he would "…do all in my power to protect and comfort you, no matter the cost"?
He wiped his eyes. The time for him to weep for Hermione would come soon enough, but he still had a couple of more nights to be with her.
The morning broke, and Harry slept.
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The next night Harry woke, he immediately realized that the coffin was no longer at Hogwarts. He could hear Muggles fairly close, and there was the noise of trains in the background.
"Harry!" Hermione called, "where are we?"
A feeling of deep relief swept through him as he realized that they were still together.
Before he could expand his vampire awareness to find out if anyone was near he heard Lupin say, "Harry? Hermione? Are you awake yet? The coast is clear."
Harry opened the coffin and sat up. "Where are we?"
"On your way to Little Hangleton. The coffins will arrive there tomorrow afternoon. When the sun sets you will be in a position to attack Voldemort there. For now, you are in York. I take it you will need to hunt?"
"Very well," he said when Harry nodded his assent. "I have a hotel room here. You can shower and change. Then, do what you have to do."
The vampires did as Lupin suggested. They dressed in casual clothes and went out into the city; it did not take long to secure the blood they needed. Hermione found a couple of burglars trying to break into a small store. Harry paid special attention to the look of disgust on her face after she finished with them. Their hunger satisfied, they walked around the city enjoying the historical landmarks, almost like Muggle tourists.
Harry walked with his arm tightly around Hermione's waist. She wondered what he was thinking, but he had closed his mind to her. "What's wrong, Harry?" she asked at last.
He shook his head. She drew apart from him and took his hand. "Are you anxious about facing Tom?" He wanted to pour out his heart to her, to ask her to reconsider and stay with him, but he could not. He would not ask her to keep drinking blood, not when she obviously hated it so much.
"Yes," he answered meekly, taking the opening she had offered him. "Tomorrow night, either he will win, or we will. I don't see any second chances." Hermione hugged him tightly, just as she had done so long ago at Number Twelve. Harry tried to capture the feel of her, imprinting it on his memory, so that in months or centuries to come he would have this memory of her.
The horizon was burning red, so they returned to the train station and their coffins.
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The next morning, three people came to travel with the coffins. Two wore the black of mourning, a young man with red hair and a badly scarred face, the other his beautiful, young wife. An older red-haired man was giving them some last minute instructions.
"Basically, keep an eye on the freight car. We can't risk anyone trying to open the caskets. Just see them to the train station in Little Hangleton, and someone will meet you there." Looking about to make sure no one was listening he followed with, "Then, you can take up your positions with the rest of the Order. The caskets will be taken to an undertaker, so don't worry about them after you sign them over."
If Bill and Fleur had questions, they kept them to themselves. The trio walked to the storage area where the coffins rested. Arthur presented his documents and the porter took the oblong boxes to the loading dock for the train. He noticed Fleur wrinkle her nose as the coffins passed by. She looked at Arthur in surprise.
Arthur sighed; it was a risk the Order had been prepared to take. "Yes, my dear. There are vampires in those coffins. They are sworn to help us against You-Know-Who and we need their help very badly. I won't tell you not to look in them, but believe me, you will be happier if you don't."
Thirty minutes later the train pulled out of the station, with Arthur waving good bye from the platform. The young mourners took their places in the car and tried to pass the time. They took turns checking on the coffins and Bill could tell that curiosity was overcoming his wife.
He was trying to read a Muggle newspaper. He found it curious that Little Hangleton was mentioned. Some strange disease had struck all of the poultry. There were no live chickens or roosters within twenty miles of the place. Nervous farmers were clamoring for the government to do something.
Fleur entered the compartment. No longer did she have to pretend to be grieved. Alarmed, Bill gave her his handkerchief. She ignored it as she pressed her face to his shoulder, and sobbed against him. He wrapped his arms around her until she regained her composure.
"You looked, didn't you?" He was not angry, but it was not a question. She nodded her head without raising her face.
"It is 'orrible, Bill. But, I am theenking I am glad to look, to remembair."
"What's so horrible?"
"Are you sure you want to know?"
Bill decided to share in the pain of whatever secret his father had tried to shield them from. After he heard he made a quick trip to see for himself.
They made the rest of the trip clinging to one another. Bill found the identity of his charges a bitter pill to swallow. The words kept echoing through Bill's head, along with the picture of the two empty chairs at his wedding supper.
Fleur had said, "The vampires, they are 'arry Pottair and 'erminy Granj'air."
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